Wanderlust
by Choco
Summary: Torn from all she's known, Malon discovers she's more ignorant than she thought. SheikxMalon oneshot.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own Zelda. 

Thanks to TML for the title suggestion.

&--

The Hylian plain stretched before her, vast and empty. She'd seen this barren landscape before, many times before, but there was something different about it tonight. Malon could almost taste it on the air—something that came perilously close to foreboding. Trembling still, she turned her eyes to the sky. When she'd been a girl, the sky had been alight with stars, and many a night she'd spent out in the corral wishing on the brightest. Would that I could wish on stars now, she thought…but, bending to Lord Ganondorf's wish, clouds obscured those stars now, leaving all the country in a state of perpetual gloom night and day.

"What are you looking at?" His voice carried no reproach, but the question was pointed. Hearing his voice as if from a great distance, Malon slowly turned her attention towards him, lacking the presence of mind to form an answer and instead looking him over for the hundredth time this night. More than her savior, he appeared as if a creature of yore, despite the acne half-hidden by his blonde bangs and the slight supple body that spoke of regular, strenuous activity…he was her age beyond a doubt, yet they were a world apart.

Seeming to sense he finally had her attention, the boy spoke, his eyes—all that was exposed of his face—boring into her. "Come, I'll help you get back ahorse. We must be away, before they think to look for us."

"Back ahorse?" The words made no sense, the syllables somehow never coming together in her mind to form meaning. Malon looked down at the hand the boy had extended, presumably to help her mount, then to the horse, a gelding she knew well. More madness; her father owned a ranch and well over a dozen horses, and surely he could've spared more than one to help his daughter preserve her modesty. The impropriety implicit with riding double with a stranger was nearly enough to take her breath away. "Where is the other?"

"You let the other escape when we stopped to rest; it's halfway across the field by now, most like." His eyes narrowed, his voice growing softer as he continued. "…Don't you remember?"

Knowing herself a competent horsewoman, Malon was on the verge of bristling at the boy's suggestion…but behind him, far away on the horizon, a fire bloomed. For a moment, she couldn't take her eyes from the sight; coupled with the dreary darkness that had cloaked the field for the past five years, the orange-red of the obscured flames was almost ethereally beautiful. The rosy glow was cleansing, almost seeming to dissolve the cauls from her eyes. She knew—remembered—the source of those flames, could remember fleeing them, and most of all could remember her father…her father…

_No_, Malon thought forcefully, trying to expel the images from her head before they could form themselves fully. _You must be strong, you can't think about that, not here, not now, not now._

"Careful." He steadied her with a hand before she could fall to her knees. "Here, let me help you…"

To Malon, it felt as if she were floating, her body suspended without aid on some other plane while her mind remained grief-stricken an hour in the past; the boy's hand might as well not have been on her shoulder at all. "W…" Her voice felt so weak suddenly, so insubstantial and weak. "Where are you taking me?"

"To Kakariko. I have friends there that should see to it that you don't go without." Slowly, he let go of her shoulder, his gaze remaining level upon her as if to evaluate whether she'd need him to keep her aright again. "Would that there was more I could offer you, but times are hard for all of us."

_To Kakariko?_ The words stunned her, leaving her incapable of doing so much as nodding or even protesting, as she so longed to do. Strangely, the thought of being abandoned by this boy who'd saved her from certain death was galling and beyond what she cared to consider—though perhaps it wasn't so strange after all, in truth. Stability was a precious and coveted commodity in Hyrule of late, fleeting though it might have been, and having that stolen from her once again this night was more than Malon thought she could bear.

Only when the boy turned to quiet the shying horse did she finally cry. The tears trickled down silently at first, but were accompanied by soft sobs soon enough as the emotions she'd tried so long to deny overwhelmed her. She hid her face in her hands. "Don't," she whispered thickly, so quietly that surely he couldn't hear. "Don't leave me yet—let me stay with you, for a little while. Please, I beg you… I…I wish that you were Link…"

What madness compelled her to say—to think—that name after Malon never did know. Yet its significance didn't escape her, even after all these years, and she stopped herself before she could say anything more. To think of such things now was shameful…

…yet not half as striking as her companion's reaction to her words. His eyes, brown in the gloom, widened then narrowed, and with unseemly violence he bit out, "_What did you say?_"

His voice was like a panacea, stunning her sobs into silence and instantly drying her tears, her heart hardening once more. Troubled by his response, Malon hesitated before replying, wondering which words would goad him to further anger and which would calm him. "It was…it was no more than a girl's fancy. That's all. Please--"

"That's not what I meant. You said his name. _Link._ How did you come to know it? Did someone tell you of him on a visit to your farm, is that the way of it?"

"No," Malon said at once, strangely hurt by the assertion. "We were friends when we were children, but…"

Over his mask, the boy's eyes widened. He began speaking with a strange intensity, perhaps influenced by the urgency tingling through her as well. "Then…have you seen him, perhaps? Is that why--"

"_No._ I haven't seen him, not for many years." What was he getting at? "He may be with the goddesses now."

"That's truer than you know." The intensity had bled out of the boy's voice, leaving it calm once more. He started to pace, for the moment seeming to forget that they needed to escape. "I was his friend as well."

Malon tried to imagine Link, her Fairy Boy, engaging in friendly banter with this strangely garbed boy. It was a hard task. The memories she had of him, suddenly summoned, were painful, perhaps more because of where they'd taken place than because of who they featured. "Then…any friend of Link's is a friend of mine." She looked at him curiously. "I don't remember your name…"

"I don't recall as I gave it." He looked down at the ground as if…uncomfortable? "I am Sheik."

"Sheik," she repeated, trying to familiarize herself with the odd-sounding name. "You have my thanks for what you did tonight, Sheik. I owe you my life."

"I did what had to be done," he said humbly…but then a change came over him, and his eyes—finally more red than brown as the fire's flames grew in intensity—scrutinized her, as if seeking all her flaws and picking them apart. "Now…as to the other thing you would have of me…"

Malon's heart dropped as she remembered her rash words. To accompany Sheik, a virtual stranger and a boy besides, rather than continuing on to Kakariko as was in the right…what had she been thinking? But she wanted it, as much as she wanted to take back the words. _He was Link's friend_, she reminded herself, _and it's all right to trust him_. So thinking, somehow she kept her silence, waiting.

Finally working out his thoughts, Sheik continued, "You don't know what you're asking. How old are you, Malon?"

"Fifteen." With apprehension finally seeping into her, Malon lowered her eyes. "Don't…don't look at me that way. Sheik--"

"I can't promise you safety. If any of Ganondorf's creatures find you with me, you will be taken, tortured, killed."

That gave Malon momentary pause. Girding herself in courage, she said, "They'd do the same to you."

"That's true enough." He seemed to consider a moment, before finally taking her hand in his, speaking with a strange intensity. "If I take you with me, you must do as I say, for your safety as well as mine; one misstep may spell disaster for the both of us. The things you hear and see in my presence may seem strange to you, even treasonous. You must never speak of the things you see. Swear it. Swear it by the goddesses."

"I…" His touch made her feel strangely flustered. Summoning all her solemnity, she managed to say the words. "I do so swear."

Sheik stared at her for a long time, as if trying to match her sacred words with the features of her face. Eventually, though, his attention was diverted by the light growing behind them and he looked over his shoulder; the fire was gaining, bringing with it the dusty-rug scent of danger. When he turned around to face her again, it was clear that his decision had been made. "Very well." He grimaced. "I may regret this, but very well. I'll take you with me for a time, for the sake of the friend we both loved well. Come, if you're finally ready to mount our horse."

&--

Often, Malon had daydreamed of being rescued from the drudgery of her existence on the farm by a knight in gleaming plate and helm, a courtly lover who'd lead her onward to a world filled with adventures. His face had been a shifting shadow, sometimes taking on Link's likeness, or that of others…but never had she imagined her fantasy playing out like this.

They rode across the field in the opposite direction of the spreading fire all night, finally taking refuge in a cluster of trees beside the old Castle Town's outer wall. Strangely, even though she was riding double with a boy she barely knew, worry over impropriety was the last thing on Malon's mind. Her mind was dominated by other thoughts, each one taking her in a different direction. She thought of Link, of what had possessed her to trust Sheik enough to accompany him for a time, of how tired she was and how desolate she felt…and like a funeral shroud draped over all those thoughts was the memory of the night before, of what she'd narrowly escaped thanks to Sheik's largesse. But no—it wouldn't do to dwell on that. She wasn't ready to confront those demons; she highly doubted she'd ever be.

Malon spent most of that day asleep, exhaustion too profound for words overtaking her, but that was the first and last day of true rest she knew. From there, the days melted into each other, each one a blur of traveling across the field—just ahead of Ganondorf's minions, or the Poes that roamed the field, Sheik told her, and that was motivation enough. Yet despite the ever-present threat of danger, she couldn't help but think that all the warnings he'd given her on the night of their first meeting were for naught. Though he sometimes disappeared when they set up camp, or came up of a day carrying a letter with what secret messages she never knew, she neither saw nor heard anything untoward.

Then there was Sheik himself. He ate little and spoke less, spending what time at camp not devoted to the watch putting himself through what appeared to be strenuous training of a type Malon had never seen before. Sometimes when they set up camp for the night or day, Sheik would curl his knees up to his chest and seem to rest, but he never truly slept; no matter when Malon chanced to look his way, his eyes remained open. One such night, she stayed up with him by their modest fire; he'd discarded the dirty cloth mask he wore, finally revealing his face. Malon looked at him curiously, seeing him as if for the first time. His face was surprisingly plain for someone she'd viewed as a hero, his features no different from those of the thousand other boys his age. She finally settled her attention on his eyes, watching the fire reflected redly in his gaze. Such sad eyes, she thought, so absent of emotion and bias…

Finally noticing her gaze on him, Sheik lifted his head and returned the look—just staring, never speaking. The look made her feel anxious. "Do I frighten you, girl?"

"No. It's just…" Malon trailed off, chewing the inside of her cheek; how could she even begin to explain how she felt? "Who are you, Sheik?" she finally blurted, only after speaking realizing that she truly wanted to know. "_What _are you? I've never seen your like before."

"No. No, you wouldn't have; there are only two of us left in the entire world." He paused for a moment, though whether it was for effect or because he was struggling for words Malon wasn't sure. "I am a Sheikah. In a kinder time, our people were as shadows…but when times grew leaner, we could do no more than cleave to them while serving as protectors of the Royal Family. Impa is the only other of my kind that remains; before the king's fall, she served as the Princess Zelda's nursemaid, but she hasn't been seen in many years."

The admission left Malon momentarily speechless, and not just because that was more than he'd said to her since the night he'd saved her. Just thinking of being a part of such a tradition, of knowing yourself to be the last of your kind, was something beyond her comprehension; even her own experiences failed to compare even vaguely. "I'm sorry," she said lamely.

"It's nothing to apologize for."

Not wanting the conversation to be over just yet, Malon fished for something else to say. "But why do you wander out here…?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Sheik shot back, though his voice was as level as ever. "There's no place for me in Hyrulian society, and I have no family to take me in. So I _wander_ around here to find myself…and do what small acts of kindness I may. And there is someone else I must needs find as well…"

Malon knew how that sentence was meant to end. _Link_. The why of it still eluded her, for she wasn't sure she understood the importance of finding him as soon as possible, but she knew better than to ask Sheik to elaborate; she was surprised he'd told her this much, in truth. She lowered her eyes from his and looked into the fire, saying nothing.

"Anyway," he said coolly, changing the subject, "doubtless the men who razed your ranch will be looking for you. It would be unfortunate for you to be recognized, in my presence especially—I think you ought to alter your appearance a little, at least until you feel comfortable going to Kakariko."

"Alter my appearance?" Malon was instantly curious; what Sheik was suggesting was something she'd never considered before. "What…what do you suggest?"

"Many are the arts of the Sheikah; masquerading is only one of them." After a moment of apparent hesitance, he stood and crossed the distance between them, kneeling before where she sat and looking at her face. He pressed his palm against her cheek; his skin felt shockingly soft against hers, almost velvety. "What you must first understand is that men will see what they expect to see…and once you know what a man expects, you have him. You don't know how to take advantage of that yet, but I can show you."

Eventually his hand dropped, sliding down the curves of her face. Malon tried not to shiver at the touch. "I think you should darken your hair…"

_Darken my hair?_ "I…if you think that's wisest."

"Well, since you're not averse, I'll get you a wash." He never shared just how he would come about the rupees for such a thing, given that he hunted for all their food, but what did it matter? The moment was gone; before Malon could as much as respond, he'd returned to his seat on the other side of the fire.

The silent moments stretched. Still uncomfortable in Sheik's presence, and even more so when faced with this uncomfortable silence, she started to hum. It was tuneless at first, merely meant to ease her a bit, but before long a familiar melody began to take shape. The moment she recognized it for what it was, she almost stopped herself—how could something be so painful and comforting, all at once?—but Sheik was staring at her with renewed interest. "I've heard that song before…" he said quietly. "It _is_ a song?"

"Yes," she said softly. "My mother taught it to me. She died in childbed."

"My mother…died in childbed as well." He sounded sad. "We are both alone in the world now, it seems."

Despite the fact that it was a common link between them, it was a disquieting thought nevertheless. Malon shifted uncomfortably before saying, "Did you hear Link play that song?"

"Possibly. Probably," Sheik relented. Then he fixed her with an intense stare. "Tell me what you know of him. _All_ of what you know."

His stare was piercing, rendering her incapable of ignoring his insistent demand—not that she could have, anyway. "We met in the Castle Town, and then again outside the castle's walls; he must have been trying to sneak in, I know now, but all I cared about then was him helping me with my father. And after that…he would come visit me on the ranch from time to time, though he always looked so tired. No surprise; the journey from the forest to the middle of Hyrule Field is a long one for a child. He was so quiet, but bright and clever as well, and he had such a gift with the ocarina… I miss him." Malon frowned, trying to erase the bittersweet nostalgia those thoughts had summoned. "And now you."

"He was the best friend I've ever had—and the worst." He stood. "We should get going. The night is almost done."

It was then that she understood that their conversation was over. Reluctantly, Malon stood and went over to the horse, tacking him up in silence while Sheik removed all traces of their presence; their duties had been divided thus since the very first day they'd traveled together. When Sheik hovered around her, obviously anxious to be off, she tightened the cinch of the saddle. "You mount first; I think I can trust you not to leave me behind now."

For a moment, Sheik looked stunned at her light yet heartfelt words; then his lips curved in a self-deprecating smile. "…How odd. I'm starting to think the same about you."

&--

Malon wandered through murky dreams.

In one, smoke had crept into her lungs, making it increasingly harder to breathe, to sleep. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in her old bedroom, with its handsome wardrobe and straw bed. Perhaps the familiarity of her surroundings should have calmed her, but she could hear loud angry voices outside—and the air was hazy with smoke. She knew what was going to happen next, had to know, but even though the specifics were hazy at best Malon felt nothing but ill at ease.

She sat up and slid from bed, the rushes scratchy beneath her bare feet. The voices from outside were growing louder, increasing with vehemence as the minutes passed—and against her better judgment, Malon crossed the room to her small window, looking down at the yard at what was doubtless a heated confrontation.

Two men bearing Ganondorf's sigil on their surcoats and holding torches stood before her father, who was kneeled before them in either submission or exhaustion; Malon couldn't tell which. Her heart ached for him, her attention diverted well enough that she completely missed when one of the men began to speak. "…defied Lord Ganondorf for the last time," said the man, his voice coming clearly even two floors above. "Let us show you the fate of traitors."

Not sure she could bear watching the rest, Malon tore herself from the window and flew into action, self-preservation and adrenaline guiding her movements. Quickly she dressed herself for modesty's sake, fingers fumbling with the laces, before she went to the door. She was starting to feel lightheaded from inhaling the smoke.

The first floor was already ablaze, fire's ruin hungrily claiming the hay scattered everywhere and the support beams keeping the farmhouse aright. Malon's heart throbbed painfully in her chest as she looked upon the frightening tableau, each beat more painful than the last; she knew the fate that awaited her then. "_No!_" she screamed furiously, denying what was happening so sharply that she could feel herself awakening…and that was only when he appeared…

Then she opened her eyes, her breathing tight with panic, adrenaline raging in her veins. But there was no threat of death here…she was laying on a bedroll provided to her by a Sheikah boy, her hair newly brown, and the night was dark and still. It was a dream—she was traveling with a trained warrior, and the night should have held no more terrors for her. Then why was she so afraid?

Sheik was sitting beside the dying fire with a small harp in his hands, slowly plucking sweet sharp notes from the strings, but when Malon approached him he stopped and raised his eyes. "You should be abed, girl."

Malon sat down across from him, hugging her knees to her chest. Her skin still crawled from the aftereffects of the too-real dream, and inside she felt a chill that the feeble fire couldn't chase away. If only she could put all of that into words— "I couldn't sleep. I had a dream about…that night."

Sheik knew exactly which night she meant, a fact obvious from the way his mouth twisted. "I had a similar experience when I was younger…and I still dream about it most nights. I used to wonder what I had done to win such cruelty, until I realized it was a gift. Such dreams gird us in strength and remind us of what we must never become. Think of that and the way may become easier."

The counsel, undoubtedly wise, was nevertheless hard for Malon to swallow. To be told that the memory of such a life-changing life had been reduced to no more than a lesson was beyond callous, yet to Sheik must have seemed the greatest comfort._ We have such different outlooks_, she thought, staring at him. She wondered about his own experience as well, but was too wise to ask him to share any more than he had. "I don't think I ever could," she said finally.

Sheik shrugged and after a moment went back to his harp. His fingers, so nimble with the throwing needles he used in his training, moved clumsily over the strings of the instrument, but the notes of the song he picked out were inexplicably moving. She could feel some emotion—or was it power?—stirring within her as she watched him at his work…

His face was a mask of concentration, even as she stared at it. Was what she felt affection? The epiphany surprised and disturbed her more than she could say. It wasn't right to feel this way about the boy who'd saved her and become her impromptu guardian, surely; the same age they might be, but they were still as different as they had been on their first meeting. Anyway, soon she'd be safely ensconced with other guardians in Kakariko, separated from him maybe forever.

That thought made her feel strangely desolate. Even though he wasn't the most handsome boy she'd ever met, what with his acne, long-uncombed hair and crooked teeth, when he spoke none of that seemed to matter; and whatever his other physical flaws might be, his body remained slender and hard as a spear, and his eyes were an intriguing color. Besides that, in him she was starting to find comfort and peace. And sometimes, when he stared at her over the fire, his face exposed and his lips quirked up in a small secret smile…well, she found something pleasant in _that_ as well.

"You never told me you played an instrument," she said suddenly. "What song is that? It's very sad…"

Sheik looked up at the sound of her voice, startled—a fact Malon found strange, considering he knew of her presence. "It's no song, just notes. There was never a reason to tell you; I have no gift besides."

Trying to resist the urge to press him, she slid closer to Sheik, carefully choosing her words. "Maybe not, but anyone can learn. Let me teach you my mother's song. You could just follow along…"

His jaw worked for a long moment. "Teach me," he agreed.

Tentatively, she began, the song coming slowly at first, then faster once she heard Sheik's hesitant accompaniment. Goaded on, she lifted her voice, and for all Sheik's fumbling humility he shifted his tune to provide a harmony quite deftfully. Malon closed her eyes, enjoying the feeling of being lost in the song, the only thing of importance being the sounds carried up by voice and harp. This is the way she wanted to remember him, she decided; head bowed over his instrument, thrown into passion for something that had nothing to do with his heritage.

When the song was done, Malon opened her eyes. There was a small smile on Sheik's unmasked face, and she wondered if she was smiling as well. "You have a pretty voice," he admitted—grudgingly, from the sounds of it.

"And you _do_ have a gift with the harp," she shot back. "I've only done something like this the once, but… I think we should do this again, with other songs."

"Perhaps; we have the field to ourselves, after all. Such a thing couldn't be done in a town—at least, not with any measure of privacy." Sheik's voice was musing, almost dreamy. "As you're starting to see, I'm sure, wandering is not so sour a life."

_Is it me he's trying to convince, or himself?_ she wondered. "Traveling is nice," Malon agreed, hesitantly introducing the topic, "but this isn't all there is to life. What of love?"

Sheik was silent for a long time. Malon, stinging with the slight embarrassment that came with asking a question and not receiving a response, was on the point of changing the subject when finally he spoke. "What _of_ love? Consider a princess—she lives with the inevitability of marriage to a man she's never seen. She may come to be content with her arrangement, even happy, but love is as alien a concept to her as is life outside her castle. We are the same, now…bound by duty and nothing else until Ganondorf's hold on Hyrule is loosened. So do not speak to me of _love_. There are bigger concerns worthy of my attention." He glanced at her. "And yours as well."

His answer stung her, for reasons as inexplicable as they were absurd. "I…I know that." What else could she say?

Setting aside his harp, Sheik pulled a dagger from his tunic and began sharpening it on a whetstone. For a while, the only sound that could be heard was the scrape of steel against stone. Briefly, Malon wished he would say anything, even to reproach her, but he never did. When at last the fire dwindled to embers, Sheik sheathed his dagger and looked up at her. "I'm going to see to the watch. You ought to go back to bed."

He disappeared in a flash of light before she could reply, metamorphosed to no more than a shadow among shadows when finally the brilliant gleam faded. Knowing she ought to heed his advice, yet feeling strangely empty, Malon went back to her bedroll and huddled under her thin blanket, trying to convince herself that she was safe in Sheik's presence. Yet long after she should have been asleep, Malon lay awake, remembering the sound of her father's shouting.

&--

Days passed, and soon Malon found she was slipping into a new sort of drudgery—waking up, traveling all day for what purpose she never knew, and collapsing onto her bedroll long before the moon rose. More often than not, she found she was too exhausted to enjoy this queer sort of adventuring…and in the dark of her dreams, she began to long for the ranch, the familiar smells of the stables and the enclosed openness of the corral, the horses and her father most of all. Despite her blossoming, acknowledged feelings for her companion, she wondered if she'd been wise to persuade him to postpone his taking her to Kakariko.

One night, for once too restless for sleep, Malon rose from her bedroll hours before sunrise, looking blearily around the area of the field where they'd set up camp before rising in search. She found Sheik where she knew she'd find him, crouched on a rock and still as the stone he was perched on. When he caught sight of her, though, he climbed down and stood beside her. "An early morning for you, is it?"

"I suppose," she said, wrapping the cloak she wore tighter around her body; the night was chilly. "I couldn't sleep anymore."

"I'll have you joining me on my vigils yet," he said lightly.

Malon laughed. "I think not. Don't you _ever_ grow weary?"

"Never." Indeed, his voice was filled with vigor even with just that simple word. "This is what I was made for."

Malon didn't know what to say to that. They stood together in comfortable silence for a time, watching the dark sky slowly lighten, till finally Sheik said, "It's good you're up early, in any case—we have a long hard day ahead of us, girl."

She was tired of him calling her that. "I'm a _maid_."

Sheik smiled at that. "You ought to be glad I'm not acknowledging your womanhood, I think. You've had many men desirous of your maidenhood trying to persuade you to run off with them as well, surely."

Was he _teasing_ her? Trying to swallow her shock, Malon rose to the occasion. "No—not many men, and not often. Papa was very protective of me." She hated how easily she'd said that, was, but it was best not to dwell on that. "You're being presumptuous, I think."

"You think so? How surprising."

"Hmm? What's surprising?" In truth, Malon was still groggy and only had half her mind on their conversation. Yet she was alert enough to sense that Sheik had something in mind—he must have—for he wasn't one for idle chatter…no, it was best not to dwell on _that_ either.

"It's surprising that you haven't had many suitors," he said simply. "But if your father was as protective as you claim, perhaps it isn't as puzzling as it seems."

The words, unassuming as the tone they were spoken in was, instantly sobered Malon, making her mind drift to soft sweet things she'd never dreamed would be a reality. She turned to face Sheik, thinking that being able to see his face would allow her to gauge the truth of things. "Are you saying you think I should have had many suitors? _You?_"

The face she'd seen so long behind a mask, _as_ a mask, had softened. Though it was hard to tell in the dark, Malon thought his eyes were soft as well. "More than you know," he said huskily, reaching out with a hand to stroke her cheek.

The feeling of his fingers brushing over her cheek made her shiver, made her acutely aware of how close they were to one another. "Sheik…" she began brokenly, not sure of what she was saying or even how to say it, "this isn't…" What was she protesting, exactly? Wasn't this what she wanted?

Her questions were answered when he kissed her. It was no more than a touch of lips at first, soft and fleeting, but firmer the second time, Malon's clumsy response apparently goading him on. Feeling his tongue flitting across her lips, tantalizing like nothing else she had ever known, she slid a hand up his chest and took hold of his shoulder, feeling as if she would lose herself. His hand found its way to the small of her back, holding her close till finally their kiss broke.

When she finally opened her eyes, smiling as their hands dropped away from each other, she found him looking at her with a strange expression. "I…I should not have done that." For the first time since she'd known him, Sheik sounded uncertain, almost afraid. "I--"

Burning despite the cold, Malon cut him off by taking one of his hands in hers. "No, you should have. I liked it. I've…I've been waiting for you to do it…"

The look he gave her as she said those words confirmed her suspicions: he was just as nervous and inexperienced as she was—and doubtless he'd been waiting for this moment as well. That look was deeply emotional and raw, but there was some darker emotion present in his odd eyes along with mingled affection and lust…there was a battle being waged in his eyes. "Then…" he said slowly, his eyes clearing as he cupped her cheek, "then I suppose I ought to do it again."

Their next kiss was easily more innocent than the first two, but more passionate as well, the contact tinged with emotions that had gone unacknowledged the last time. It was a long kiss, this Malon knew, but she didn't realize how long it had been till Sheik pulled back; the sky was significantly lighter than it had been before. Sheik cursed, his voice soft but just loud enough for her to hear. "Day comes too soon; we must be out of this part of the field before sunrise. Our day will be hot and hard, I promise you, but…we have all day tomorrow…"

Shyly, Malon let go of him as she ducked her head and grinned, clinging to the thought of them having all day tomorrow as if one diluted and drugged. Somehow, the promise of more was enough.

As quickly as that, their fledgling intimacy was broken. They ate their breakfast in silence and were off across the field before the dawn broke.

&--

Often, Malon wondered what Sheik was thinking. Was what he told her he felt truly what he felt? Were his experiences real or only meant to mock her own? Was he leading her on, luring her forward into some trap? Was she going to regret this? What about him, really? Was he thinking about what he was getting himself into? Did he consider that yielding to a common girl's rash wish and involving himself with her was going to dilute the efficacy of his tedious Sheikah training, cause him to lose himself…perhaps even get him killed?

To be sure, those thoughts were far and away when they seized opportunities to enjoy each other, and whenever Sheik's mouth met hers Malon couldn't think on them at all. Even Sheik's propriety and solemnity imperceptibly dissolved as the days wore on, discarded every time he joined her by the fire of a night, his body pressed against her own—when finally they were joined.

Afterward, her head pillowed on his chest, she tingled with fear and guilt, was sticky with elation. Often she cried as well, and how she detested those tears. Never had she been so weak while a girl—still she remembered how lively and spirited she'd been—but long years under Ganondorf's heel had dissolved those vibrant traits. And in the end, crying was as nothing; tears were easily wiped away. Would that her doubts could disappear half so easily.

The more she talked to him, the closer she felt. Even when he stood as stoically as the shadows his people sought to emulate, he was ever present, absorbing her every woe and praise and somehow comforting. It had built a strong relationship but Malon was even hesitant to label it because this epoch of relative contentment, like everything, was so transitory. She was, as Sheik had once counseled her, destined for better things than a tryst with an enigmatic boy doomed to wander.

&--

The forest floor was dappled with shadows.

They'd had to leave the horse behind and pick their way through the undergrowth themselves, but Malon soon discovered that was just as well; the poor gelding would have been clumsy and out of place in this labyrinth of log passages, in this too-small ghost town for children. Even _she_ felt out of place here, in this place made for children who wouldn't deign to reveal themselves to adult strangers.

Doubtless Sheik felt the same, even knowing the significance of this place—Link had lived here once, he'd told her, a thought that made her tingle despite herself—but if so, there was no hint on his exposed face, least of all in his eyes, which were steely with something she recognized as duty. He cast his eyes over the seemingly deserted treehouses cautiously as he led her forth, tracing a path from behind one row of houses rather than take the path running down the middle of the village in a ragged strip. There was danger here, Sheik had claimed, and despite how cumbersome she found going so far out of the way Malon was hardly about to protest that.

One of his hands was curled into a tight fist, she noted; there were throwing needles waiting there, she knew. "You've never taken me with you before," she said in a low whisper, mindful of the beasts she might awaken with the sound of her voice.

"I know that." They crossed a shallow stream, Malon somehow managing to soak herself all the way up to the hem of her skirt. "But…now…"

Whether he was too embarrassed or distracted to continue, Malon couldn't tell and it didn't really matter. She ducked her head as they slowly walked forward, grinning in sudden delight. _Yes, now._ The thought of what that meant for them made her feel absurdly giddy—was it this way for anyone else?

Certainly it wasn't for Sheik, who was as grim as ever, at least now. They had reached their goal now; it stood beyond a thick stone wall, its massive branches extending to serve as a canopy even for the village a hundred feet from its trunk—though a feeble canopy to be sure, as it bore no leaves. He eyed the path carved from the wall for a long moment, considering, before he let go of Malon's hand and slowly continued forth, every movement economical.

When she made to follow him, Sheik stopped her with a hand. His face had become a mask, still as stone. "Malon, wait without."

His rejection of her presence during what was presumably a very important event stung her. "But I…"

"_Wait without_. I won't be long."

Hearing the glint of ice in his voice, remembering her promise from a night that seemed so long ago, Malon yielded with hardly another protest. Even if she imagined they were becoming equals as the days they spent with each other passed, they'd known each other for a bare month—there was so much they didn't know about each other, and even less Malon cared to discover.

While Sheik slipped off to have audience with the queer tree, or so he'd told her, Malon braced her back against the wall and looked down at her hands. A heavy sleepiness tugged at her eyelids, but for the moment she ignored that; it had been a long day for her, but it had been a longer day for Sheik, and it wouldn't do to have him discover her asleep upon his return. His return…there was so much he hadn't told her about this visit—about anything in general—and it bothered her more than it should have.

Long minutes passed. Malon picked at a hangnail. Oddly enough, she didn't hear the deep, booming voice Sheik had told her the tree possessed, yet he hadn't returned—perhaps there was something else she wasn't yet privy to? But she _did_ hear something else—a strange grunting from not so far away that sent a thrill of disquiet running down her spine…

Far across the village, standing before one of the log tunnels, was a creature not unlike any man in shape, a spear clearly visible in its grip. Malon froze in sudden terror, her breath catching in her throat. Her first urge was to call out for Sheik—but no, she dared not. The creature was far and away, not approaching her in any way; quite likely it hadn't even caught sight of her. If she could only hide… Trying to force herself to believe that, Malon edged slowly toward the nearest treehouse, hoping to hide behind its trunk. That worked well enough till her skirt snagged on a snarled root growing out of the wall, making her mind inflamed anew with fear.

She screamed. It saw and charged.

Her resolve broke. Turning her back, she ran down the path Sheik had taken, another scream building in the back of her throat as she tripped and stumbled, yet no sooner than she'd come to a turn in the path that he appeared, red eyes wide with alarm. "What--" he started, and seeing the threat, he pushed her out of the way of the monster's charge. Malon pitched to the side, landing heavily on her hands and knees while the creature stopped short, its attempt to kill her thwarted; it looked around for its target in nearsighted confusion. "Here, moblin," Sheik called.

Their dance begun, the monster all brute force and Sheik all clean lines. A dozen times the moblin thrust its spear the Sheikah's way, hoping to impale him, so close to her that Malon could smell its stink beneath the cloud of stale sweat; Sheik dodged nimbly. The attack went on and on, seemingly without end, till finally the moblin left itself open with a mistimed thrust; its spear ended up impaled in the wall. His back to the moblin, Sheik gracefully twisted, his throwing needles gleaming as they left his grasp.

Malon kept her eyes closed through the rest of it and finally hid her face in her hands, her entire body shaking with the sobs. Sheik knelt beside her on the ground and laid his bloody hand on her shoulder.

&--

Something was wrong. Malon sensed that at once.

_Of course there is_, she silently chided herself. Something cold had settled over them ever since the attack in the forest, unspeakable yet very present. Opportunities for amorous interludes had grown few as Sheik slipped further back into his former self—or would that be who he was becoming?—and as Malon allowed herself to be affected by the coldness as well. Perhaps they had finally realized the foolishness of this arrangement, or perhaps there was something deeper than that; it was impossible to say. And now, coupled with this…

Beside her, Sheik finally stirred. He'd covered the lower half of his face with his ragged mask for the first time in weeks, his red eyes once again without expression. "We're here," he announced needlessly.

Malon looked around beyond the entrance gate of Kakariko Village, where they stood. She had come here before, many times, but never had it seemed so gloomy and cheerless. Some of that was Ganondorf's influence, to be certain, but Malon knew beyond a doubt that her own desolate mood was coloring how she saw this place. This was one of Hyrule's last remaining safe havens, and she should have been grateful…but she couldn't dredge up even the guilt.

"Sheikah founded this village," Sheik continued as he led her forth, not paying any mind to her conspicuous silence. "It's offered asylum to many of the Royal Family's allies over the years. You _will_ be safe here, that I promise you."

She tried to speak then, tried to form words, but her mouth felt so dry. How could she say what she planned to, anyway? How could she admit the inevitable aloud? "And you…?"

To any other, her words wouldn't have been description enough to even begin to form an answer, but Sheik knew what she meant at once. "As for me, it's back to the field. Things will be happening very fast now, for the both of us…or at least I so dearly hope."

Malon ground her teeth, unable to crush the irritation she felt at the cryptic words._ Link_, the ever-present link and division between them, even more grating than the pretense and omissions that diluted their conversations. She wished for the ability to say something, anything, to persuade him to abandon that mad wish and stay with her—take her with him—but such words would not come, perhaps because she knew that longing was beyond foolish now. Loath as she was to admit it, this course of action was in the right.

Even so knowing, she couldn't stop her mind from drifting to her mother and father. Theirs was a tale of transcending love, she knew; surely if what she and Sheik had shared was the same, their separation should have been accompanied by tears, heated denials of the inevitable, pleas for a different outcome. Yet all she felt beyond the slow simmer of irritation was a maddening calm that distressed her more than she could say. _It's not supposed to be like this_—not like this.

Despite serving as a place of asylum for most of those who'd been displaced by Ganondorf's coup, Kakariko's main square was all but deserted save for a beggar going about his business. Sheik walked past, his steps quick with purpose, while Malon struggled to keep up. When it became clear what their destination was, she wished more than anything that he would slow his steps, but if he felt the same he never showed it.

They climbed the steps leading up to Kakariko's biggest home; Sheik waited for her outside the door. "Here you are. As I've told you, the women who own this house are great friends of mine, providing for me when others could not. Mention my name and you will have every comfort."

Malon knew what was expected of her; to courteously thank him for his kindness and send him on his way. The instructions seemed to be reflected in his eyes._ Is this how it ends?_ Overcome by a surge of emotion, she abandoned propriety and embraced him, burying her face in his shoulder. "You shouldn't…you shouldn't leave," she breathed into his shoulder. "Please, Sheik…"

Slowly he pulled out of her embrace, his eyes empty still as he held her at arm's length. "I have other duties to attend to. I did as you requested—and changed you in the process, I hope. You are something finer now." He touched her hair. "Farewell."

_Duty?_ Though stunned, Malon understood now, a deal better than she formerly had. Every time he'd yielded to one of her embraces, joined her in her bedroll, lowered his mask to kiss her…had it truly been no more than _duty_ to him, providing comfort to a girl who had lost all? She wanted to hit him; she wished she knew for sure, wished she could. Instead she embraced him once more.

When she pulled back, he squeezed her hand and then turned his back on her, retreating back to the field in search of Link. Malon watched his turned back retreat for the barest of minutes, then let out a shuddering sigh and closed her eyes.

When she was alone, Malon went into the house to meet her hosts. Ilse and Farra they were called, appearing as fearful old harridans at first, but soon enough proving themselves the friends that Sheik had claimed them to be. Though they would never become surrogate mothers, of that Malon was certain, they treated her kindly and the chores they gave her were light enough. What part of her days was not taken up by work was spent outside as she tried to integrate herself back into Hylian life. Malon was surprised one such day to find that she could feel herself beginning to heal.

He was gone. Months passed. It was as if nothing had ever happened.


End file.
